


Owl Notes

by greenalms



Series: Owl Notes [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bullying, First Meeting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Owl Plushie, Switches POV, note passing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:05:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6628465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenalms/pseuds/greenalms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bokuto has brought an owl plushie with him to school every day since junior high. One day, while running down the hall, he crashes into someone, and loses it. It makes its way back with a note under its wing, and prompts him to search for the owl's rescuer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Owl Notes

The longer he stared into the wide, hollow, unblinking yellow eyes of the owl sitting in front of him, the more Keiji felt his grimace sour. The ten-centimeter stuffed bird sat lopsided in the center of his desk, head tilted awkwardly to one side, with dusty brown embroidered ‘feathers’ and two tiny extra folded pieces of fabric atop its head shaped almost like ears, which he supposed was meant to identify it as a Great Horned Owl. The stuffing had collapsed in areas where it had likely been hugged. Keiji continued to stare the bird down, feeling it taunt him with the loud shout he’d heard only moments before a shoulder had checked him into the lockers, and it had dropped onto the floor beside him.

_”Hey, hey, heyyy!!”_

With a sigh, he brushed the owl into his bag, trying to ignore the stinging giggles from behind him as eyes seared the back of his head. Instead of dwelling on what he must look like with a stuffed owl in his bag, Keiji pulled out a spare piece of paper, and began to write.

\------------

Koutarou had had, by far, the absolute worst morning possible.

He’d woken up late, and had _barely_ had time to gel his hair before having to leave for practice, which had sucked anyway, since he barely got to do any spiking. Then, he’d tried to chase down his teacher to hand in an assignment that was overdue because he’d totally forgot about it and only remembered that he’d never turned it in when seeing the teacher go down the hall. And because of _that_ he’d been late to class and was scolded as he bolted through the door to his seat. The class had laughed at him, and he’d felt the whole 180 cm of him get a heck of a lot smaller. 

And then, _then,_ he’d opened up his bag and realized that Shouri-chan was gone. Dread had washed over him like ice as he rushed back through his morning, trying to think of whether he might have forgotten him at home. Was he in the clubroom? No, he’d been tucked in his bag, on top of his math book. Koutarou distinctly remembered petting him before going to practice. He tensed, his breath coming in short, leaping out of his seat and shouting that his precious owl was missing. Koutarou had gotten another scolding for that, and was informed that if he did not want to be sent out of class, he would have to sit down and make do without his ‘silly toy.’ 

Koutarou had barely been able to swallow all day. How _dare_ anyone refer to his precious Shouri-chan as a silly toy. Shouri-chan was important to him, couldn’t anyone see that? The owl had come to school with him every day since junior high. What if he was lost? What if he was lying on the ground in a puddle, growing mold in his fabric? What if someone had just walked off with him? What if he was handed off to some small toddler who would pull his seams apart and tear out the stuffing?!

“Come on, Bokuto, you have to admit, you’re acting kind of ridiculous, right now,” Komi said, shoveling rice into his mouth. 

Koutarou sighed, eyeing his untouched bento with clouded eyes. Konoha and Sarukui were sitting behind him, nodding sagely in agreement.

“You said he was in your bag at practice, right?” Konoha continued. Koutarou gave a nod. “Then you probably just left him somewhere and didn’t notice.”  
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Washio agreed from his spot against the wall. _It is for Shouri-chan,_ Koutarou thought dejectedly.  
“My point is, it’s not the end of the world,” Komi insisted, as if reading his thoughts. “You’ll probably find him later in the bathroom or something. Stop looking so gloomy and eat something, ace.”

Komi was right, of course, and he was being stupid and ridiculous and probably getting on everyone’s nerves again to the point where they’d all probably give up talking to him and he’d have to go through the whole afternoon by himself. Koutarou groaned, picking his head up a few millimeters and lifting a single bite to his mouth, chewing slowly. This seemed to placate his teammates, and they immediately changed the subject to discussing an upcoming practice match. For once, Koutarou couldn’t bring himself to listen. 

They went back inside with five minutes to spare. As Koutarou dragged himself into his classroom, he heard his name being called.  
“Bokuto-kun!” He looked and saw Mitsuki flagging him down. He waved back at her, even though he was feeling too depressed to smile normally.

“Hi, Mitsuki,” he greeted.  
“Bokuto, someone came in here looking for you earlier,” Mitsuki informed him. Koutarou’s eyes widened. He tried to think about everyone he knew, and wondered if he’d forgotten something important. Mitsuki pointed in the direction of his desk, and his eyes followed.

His heart stopped.

“Shouri-chan!” he exclaimed, leaping across the classroom and scooping the bird into his arms. He suddenly felt lighter than air, cuddling his precious owl to his face and relishing in the feeling of his soft fabric feathers. “Where were you, I was so worried!”

“A boy came in here with it,” Mitsuki explained. “He said you crashed into him this morning and it fell out of your bag. I think he was a first year. He left a note.”

Crashed into someone? Koutarou definitely didn’t remember that, he would have apologized. Then again, he was kind of in a rush to meet his teacher, and first years were always tiny. Koutarou looked around for the note, and found it crushed under Shouri-chan’s wing. 

_Bokuto-san,_  
_I believe this is your owl. You dropped it in the first year hallway after crashing into me this morning. Please keep better track of your things; Nakagawa-sensei made it seem like it was very important to you when I asked, and I imagine you’d be very upset if it had gotten destroyed or lost._  
_Also, please look where you are going next time you come down the hall. You pushed me into the locker and it kind of hurt._  
_Thanks._  
_Akaashi Keiji (Year 1, Class 5)_

\----------

Keiji stared at the folded piece of paper sitting on his desk. Instead of giggles this morning, it was hushed whispers floating around him as he placed his bag on the back of his chair and slid into his seat. Where had this come from? Was it from a teacher? Was he in trouble?

Keiji opened up the paper and blinked.

 _Akaashi -_  
_Hey, thanks for returning Shouri-chan to me!!!!!!!!!!!!! You literally made my whole day better by bringing him back, like I almost got kicked out of class after I thought I’d lost him. Also, holy shit sorry for checking you into a locker yesterday?!?!? I was in a rush to see my teacher and I don’t even remember running into anyone, but like are you okay???? Did you get hurt??? Oh man, I’d feel so shitty if I hurt you!!!! Please let me know if you’re okay or not._  
_And, yeah, thanks again for bringing Shouri-chan back!!!_  
_\- Bokuto Koutarou_  
_PS. I hope you don’t mind I asked around to find you so I could give you this. No offense but your classmates are kinda rude._

Speechless. Not even a whisper of a thought transpired as he absorbed the messy katakana on the page, and the sloppy kanji of Bokuto’s name at the bottom. He’d drawn a little cartoon owl in the corner of the page, which Keiji supposed was kind of endearing. He tuned out the whispers behind him, and pulled out a fresh piece of paper, not quite believing what he was about to do.

_Bokuto-san,_  
_I’m fine, just bruised a little on my shoulder. I’m glad you weren’t kicked out of class._  
_I’m sorry if my classmates were rude to you. They are not the friendliest to me either._  
_Akaashi Keiji_

_PS. You really like owls, don’t you?_

\---------------------------

“Is it just me, or is this the weirdest thing to happen in like, a while?” Komi asked the group as they watched Koutarou devour his latest note. Koutarou didn’t mind, he was far more preoccupied with the tingling feeling in his stomach as he read Akaashi’s neat, cramped characters. The note wasn’t long, it never was, but just like Koutarou had discovered his new friend to be, it was clever and quick-witted and right to the point. 

_No, I’m good at languages because I practice. You’re probably good at math because you’re just as impossible, and it recognized an equal._

Koutarou snickered to himself, missing his mouth with his chopsticks and accidentally dropping rice on the ground. His teammates looked on in wonder.

“It’s like, cute, in a weird kind of way,” Konoha agreed.  
“Bokuto, how many have you gotten now?” Sarukui asked. Koutarou shrugged.  
“Like one or two a day depending,” he replied. “His writing is so nice.”  
“So you’ve said.”  
“He’s so _smart.”_  
“Well, he is in class 5,” Konoha quipped.  
“Have you ever actually talked to him?” Komi asked. “Like, do you even know what he looks like?”

Koutarou shook his head no as he pulled out his notebook to respond to the note. Komi shook his head in fake disgust.  
“He’ll be writing full-on love letters next week,” he predicted. His teammates agreed.

\-------------------

_Hey, Akaashi, do you play sports at all?????_

_No. I used to play volleyball when I was little, but I had to stop halfway through junior high. You’re on the team here, right?_

_Yeah!!! I’m a wing spiker and the ACE!!! Wow, I'm the ace. ME!! I took over for Tatsuma-senpai after he moved. He was the greatest, I don't know how I'm ever gonna live up to him. Don't tell anybody this, but I almost cried when he told me he wanted me to take his spot after he left. And then all the third years started calling me ace during practice after they realized Tatsuma-senpai wasn't coming back, like 'whoa!! I'm not ready yet!' Well, except for Kimura, but he like never talks to me about anything. But I'm gonna be the best ace and do my senpai proud! And I got the #4 jersey like holy shit. I mean, I know I’m going to be the best, but like, it makes it feel more real, you know? Isn’t it cool, Akaashi??? What position were you??? Why’d you stop????_

_I was trying to become a setter. I never got the chance to play for a team. We had a death in the family and had to move, and the junior high I transferred to didn’t have a volleyball club._  
_It’s very cool, Bokuto-san. I can see you being a good ace._

_YOU SHOULD JOIN THE CLUB HERE!!!!!! Kimura is graduating, we need a new setter!!!!!_

_I haven’t played in over a year and a half, Bokuto-san._

_Akaashi, please?????! It doesn’t matter, I bet you’d be great!! We really need a setter!!!! At least say you’ll think about it???_

_I’ll think about it._

\--------------------------------

Weeks later, Keiji had stopped questioning why he was still writing to Bokuto. It felt as natural as breathing. Get up, come to school, read the note from Bokuto, write him back, drop the response in his locker on his way to the bathroom between classes, read the next one when he went to exchange his books, drop off the next one right before lunch, get another on the way back from the bathroom, drop off his last before leaving for the day. They never ran into each other, though Keiji knew several of Bokuto's classmates could recognize him. The routine worked, and Keiji liked it that way. He tapped his pen to his chin, wondering how to respond to Bokuto's latest.

 _Like, getting the meds helped, but I think my mom kinda thought it would make my ADHD just go away?? And she just gave up when it didn’t. She doesn’t even bother looking at my grades anymore, which makes me feel like…. I don’t know… like school isn’t even worth it. I don’t think I’m ever going to get into a university unless I get scouted._  
_You shouldn’t let your folks pressure you like that!!! Like, yeah, you’re obviously smart enough, but if music and photography make you happier, then like, go for it!!! Someone as smart and talented as you would definitely be successful. And I’d totally have your back. Komi says he’d have your back too, but he’s never like heard you play and stuff. He has no imagination. I know you’re the best!!!!!!!!!!!!_

“You’re weird.”

Keiji looked up from his notebook at his classmate. She was frowning down at him with her arms folded across her chest. Keiji straightened in his seat.

“I’m sorry?”  
“You’re weird, you know that? Every single day for almost a month now you’ve written those dumb notes, and then that second year comes in here during break and puts another one on your desk, or in your locker. It’s not normal.”  
“I fail to see how me communicating with my friend is not normal.”  
“It’s not normal!” the girl screeched. “Passing notes is for girls! Putting notes in lockers is for love confessions! It’s weird watching you do it every day like it’s nothing. It’s pissing me off.”  
“I’m sorry that you’re upset, but to be honest, it doesn’t really affect me,” Keiji replied. “I’d like to finish my note now, if you’d please.”

The girl did not please. Instead, she scoffed, reached down and yanked the notebook out from under him. Keiji protested, stood up to retrieve it, but by then, her male friend had taken it from her, and was scribbling over every page in permanent marker. The pair laughed as the thick tip of the marker blotted out every mark, every character, and Keiji felt his heart wrench in two.

\---------------------------

_Bokuto-san,_  
_Sorry for not replying to your last note. Some of my classmates destroyed my notebook and I had to wait for the weekend to get a new one._

_WHAT?!?! Why would they do something like that?!_

_They think it’s weird that we pass notes like this instead of talking face to face._

_That’s dumb. I mean, Komi and Konoha have made fun of me for not coming to meet you in person before, but like, they don’t mean anything bad by it?? At least not like that_  
_Does it bother you that we’ve never actually talked?_

_Not really. I like it. I’ve never really had close friends before, and I’m not great at talking to people, so writing to you like this just feels safer, I guess. I feel like I can say whatever I want because you’re less likely to judge a piece of paper._

_You could say whatever you want to my face!!!!! I wouldn’t judge you. You’re really smart._

_Thanks. I believe you._  
_I still think I prefer the notes though. It’s unique. Nobody else does what we do._  
_Does it bother you?_

_Nah!!!! I think it’s fun!! Plus, my handwriting’s gotten a lot better since I started writing notes to you every day. I got intimidated by how neat your writing is and felt like I had to impress you, so I practiced a lot. Arai-sensei actually came up to me and asked me about the difference in my writing and laughed at me when I told her the truth._

_You felt like you had to impress me? Why?_

_Yeah!! Because you’re really clever and funny and you write really well so I felt like I had to step my game up._  
_I can’t be the best if my kouhai’s handwriting game is stronger than mine!!!_

 _I fail to see how me having better handwriting than you has anything to do with you becoming the best spiker in Japan, Bokuto-san, but if it makes you feel better, I have noticed that you improved a lot. I think it’s kind of cute that you put so much effort into it._  
_PS. Good luck at the Inter-High._

\----------------------------------

Koutarou tossed the ball up into the air, taking a running leap and meeting it with the palm of his hand. The practice serve went over the net and landed in bounds. He congratulated himself with a whoop.

“Nice one, ace!” Komi called from the side, giving him a thumbs up. When the whistle blew and the captain called them all over, Koutarou quickly got into his game mode. Like hell he was going to blow his chance now. They’d made it to Nationals last year on pure luck. This year, he was determined to show Japan that they were going to make it to Nationals on pure skill. That way Kuroo wouldn’t have an excuse to taunt him with that dumb grin of his. Stupid cat.

The crowd behind him roared as they took the court. Koutarou took a deep breath and grinned, side eyeing Kimura and flashing him a thumbs up. The third year setter didn’t respond, only turned away and eyed the other team. Koutarou felt concern knot in his stomach. His ability to communicate with Kimura had deteriorated in the last month. The setter had grown moody and unpleasant, and was refusing to spike to him as much. The captain had assured him it was just because he was feeling a lot of pressure from home and school, but Koutarou couldn’t help but think it had something to do with him. 

He couldn’t let himself dwell on it though. The whistle was about to blow again, and Akaashi had wished him good luck. He’d kept the note, and tied it around Shouri-chan’s neck. Two good luck charms in one, he thought. There was no way Koutarou could lose now!

He kept his morale high, from the first whistle signaling Konoha’s serve, to the very last point, where Kimura had _finally_ given him a good toss, and he’d slammed it down so hard it had ricocheted off the back wall. The team cheered, and he received five claps on the back in the changing room.

“Nice toss, Kimura!” he thanked his setter. Kimura scoffed, and grumbled something under his breath. Suddenly the high was gone, and the familiar emptiness that set in after every practice, every match, was in its place.

Volleyball wasn’t much fun when your setter didn’t like you, Koutarou thought. He scooped up Shouri-chan and Akaashi’s luck, and tucked them both safely into his bag before boarding the bus back to Fukurodani. He re-read the note a hundred more times on the way, smiling softly at last two lines, and feeling his cheeks pink. Akaashi could be sarcastic and a tease, but he was never mean. Akaashi would toss to him, he hoped. Maybe after Akaashi joined the team, after they finally met face to face, and had a proper conversation or two, Koutarou would work up the nerve to ask him out. 

Maybe. 

“How’s Love Letters?” Komi asked from the seat behind him, using the nickname they’d given Akaashi. Konoha and Sarukui snickered. Koutarou sighed.  
“Is it possible to have a crush on someone you’ve never spoken to?” he asked. Komi shrugged.  
“I mean, I don’t know about normal people. But you’re hopeless, so it’s not that far-fetched,” he teased. Koutarou glared at him.  
“Just go _talk to him!!”_ Komi insisted. “Please, do us all a favor!”

Koutarou thought about it all the way to the clubroom. What would it be like, meeting Akaashi face-to-face? What if Akaashi became disillusioned by him after meeting him and didn’t want to be friends anymore? What if they didn’t get along? What if he didn’t like Koutarou back?

“Hey, what’s this?”  
Koutarou snapped out of his thoughts to see Konoha holding up a folded piece of paper in between his fingers. “It was right in front of the door.”  
“Love-Letters!” Komi cried. “He sent you one to the clubroom!”

Koutarou snatched the note from Konoha and pulled it open, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Akaashi never passed notes to the clubroom. He was never at school that late. Was he okay?

The note was long. Probably the longest one Akaashi had ever sent him. Reading it broke his heart.

 _Bokuto-san,_  
_I need to get something off my chest. It’s been a long time coming, and I really just can’t take it anymore._  
_I don’t think you quite understand how much you mean to me. You’re pretty much my only friend. Nobody in my class speaks to me unless it’s some kind of insult. I don’t know what their problem with me is, but they’ve never been kind to me. Ever. I don’t think I’d spoken more than three words outside of answering questions in class before I started writing these notes to you. And that’s really only the beginning of it...._  
_My desk was vandalized during break. My locker too. My classmates think it’s hilarious. I had to stay late to clean everything up._  
_I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I think I’m lonely. I hate it._  
_You must be at your game right now. I hope you come back victorious. I know the whole school is rooting for you._  
_I know I am._  
_Akaashi Keiji_

\-----------------------------

Keiji wasn’t sure how it happened, but sixteen hours after shoving that horrendously depressing note to Bokuto, he found himself the highly embarrassed new owner of a stuffed owl. The heat in his cheeks and throbbing of his pulse in his neck set a syncopated percussion to the harsh melody of his classmates' jeers. He pulled the folded paper from underneath the owl's wing, and tried to blink away the tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

_Akaashi -_  
_Take Shouri-chan for a little while. I know it feels weird carrying a stuffed animal around all the time, but trust me on this. I got Shouri-chan as a gift from a friend back in junior high. He’s always been my good-luck charm! He really helped me out back then, and that’s why I never go anywhere without him. I mean, his name means victory and all… maybe he can help you the way he helped me._  
_And if you want, maybe we can hang out after the Inter-High is over?_  
_\- Bokuto_

Suddenly, the fact that his desk had been vandalized (again) wasn’t all that big a deal. His homeroom teacher had seen, and she had immediately given the entire class a stern lecture, and made them clean the classroom for the entire period. When they were done, Keiji squeezed Shouri-chan in his lap and breathed.

Whether or not the bullying stopped, he didn't feel quite so lonely anymore. He pulled out his notebook and tore off a small square from the corner, writing only one word. _Yes._

\-----------------------------

_How'd quarterfinals go?_

_AMAZING!!! I got so many great spikes in!!! Kimura's really outdoing himself, I think things are starting to turn around!_

_Turn around? Were things not going well before?_

_Well, no, not really. Me and Kimura don't really get along is all. I mean, I have nothing against him, he's a great setter. He just doesn't seem to like me very much? Like, we got on fine when I was a first year. He taught me a lot and we had a really good setup, but then when I started getting better and looking like I was going to be the ace, he started getting like... hostile almost??? He barely talks to me anymore, and when he tosses to me it just feels all wrong. He criticizes me a lot now. He says I'm too inconsistent all the time, which I guess is true, but like, I wish he wouldn't tear me down so much... Like I know I'm still not the best spiker I could be. I'm too loud, and it's usually pretty obvious what I'm gonna do on the court, and I still get blocked all the time, and I'll get mood swings in the middle of a game and just shut down like holy shit I'm actually the worst??? My whole team has to carry me at that point I feel like such dead weight why am I even a regular?_

_Bokuto-san, please calm down. You are not the worst. Maybe a little vain, but that's not really a bad thing. Plus you have a real problem, and it's not your fault if Kimura-san doesn't understand that. Your teammates should be able to adapt to you, I feel like, especially if you try to meet them halfway and keep yourself under control as long as you can. Maybe you should try talking to him before your next match?_

_Hey!!! You really think so?!!? That's a really great idea, Akaashi!!!! You're right, I can totally handle this. I'm definitely going to keep my cool during semifinals. We're playing Nekoma High, which is the team my really good friend Kuroo plays for. You'd like him, he's really smart too. Although, he can be kind of an asshole sometimes. Like when he blocks my spikes!!!!_

_How rude of him._

_I know right?! I told him all about you, by the way, because we text back and forth a lot. He wants to know why you're not coming to any of the games, since he wants to meet you. I told him to go eat a dick because it's none of his business!!! It's gonna be such a great game, I can already feel it. And I'm going to talk to Kimura and see if we can't work something out, even if it's just for the next couple of matches._

_Good. Tell Kuroo-san I'd like to meet him too, eventually. And let me know how things go with Kimura-san._  
_Good luck, Bokuto-san!_

\-----------------------------

The whole school was buzzing by the time Keiji got to his locker Monday morning. They were talking about sports, and Keiji was doing his best to tune them out, in case they were discussing the semifinals matches on Saturday. He wanted to hear it from Bokuto first, and there was undoubtedly a note waiting for him. He was, of course, hoping that Bokuto and his team had won, because that would mean that Bokuto was one step closer to Nationals, and one step closer to being the very best spiker in Japan. On the other hand, he was also kind of hoping that Bokuto had lost. Losing would mean that he wouldn't have to participate in the tournament anymore, and that would mean that Bokuto would have time to meet Keiji in person. And if meeting Keiji in person meant that he would have to comfort a distressed Bokuto? Well, Keiji wasn't convinced he'd be too upset about that.

He opened his locker, and his shoulders slumped. There was no note inside. Did that mean they'd lost? Was Bokuto too depressed to even write anything? Keiji shook his head, transferring his books and notebook for his morning classes. The note was probably just sitting on his desk. Bokuto wouldn't forget (Would he?).

Keiji gave Shouri-chan a squeeze before walking into his classroom. The room hushed at once when he walked in, and Keiji noticed that most, if not all of his classmates were staring at him. Keiji's heart thumped painfully in his throat. He swallowed it down and took his seat. A hole dug itself through his chest as he realized there was no note there waiting for him. He's just late, Keiji told himself, clutching Shouri-chan to his lap. He's late, or he's trying to figure out how to tell me in person.

The bell rang, and Keiji's grip on the owl slacked. For the first time in two and a half months, Keiji felt himself shrinking.

Paying attention to classes that morning was the most difficult thing Keiji had ever done in his life. He didn't dare let go of Shouri-chan, clutching the bird in one hand while taking notes with the other, one knee vibrating under the wood of his desktop. Keiji bit into his bottom lip until it bled, and had to excuse himself to the bathroom during English to wash out his mouth.

He bolted from his seat the second the lunch bell rang, making his way to the second year hallway. The gossip was coming in from all sides now, and Keiji didn't even bother to try.

"Did you hear about the match?"  
"I heard we're going to finals!"  
"The team must be so excited!!"  
"They're so cool!"

They'd won. Bokuto had won. They were going to the finals. He had to find him and congratulate him. But if everything was going so well, then why...?

"I heard they got into a fight."

Keiji slowed his pace, turning towards a group of first years gossiping quietly by the door to the college prep class. Ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking, he drew close.

"Apparently, one of the spikers and the setter have been having some issues for a while. I heard that they tried to work things out right before the match, but it backfired. The setter started screaming at him, and nearly hit him. Their teammates had to restrain him, and one of the guys from the other team got involved. The whole match got delayed."  
"Was the spiker okay?"  
"Yeah, but I guess he didn't play that much. He was really shaken up."  
"But they won, though, right? They should be happy."  
"Yeah, they should. They got lucky."

Keiji clutched Shouri-chan hard. His heart dropped and stomach knotted. He could barely take a breath, and somewhere in the back of his mind thanked god he knew how to control his microexpressions. Bokuto had agreed to confront Kimura because he'd suggested it. But it had backfired. Kimura had snapped at him. Kimura had almost _hit_ him, on the court in front of thousands of people...

Keiji felt himself collide with someone, he immediately took a step back, and had to look up at the boy in front of him. He was tall (so, so tall), and athletically built, with lean arms and short brown hair. The boy glared at him, then glanced down at the owl in his hands.

"Oh, it's you," the boy said, almost sneering as he addressed him. Keiji narrowed his eyes at him.  
"I'm... sorry?" he asked.  
"You're the one that Bokuto likes. The one he keeps writing those dumb notes to." 

Keiji felt his blood heating, he took a deep breath, and inhaled hot.  
"I'm Akaashi Keiji," he introduced. The boy rolled his eyes.  
"Believe me, I know. We've heard nothing but your name for the past two months."  
"Can I help you?" Keiji asked, trying to keep himself from shaking visibly. The boy shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged.  
"Not really, but I can probably help you," he said. "You wanna know what's best for you? Stay the hell away from that guy. He's a joke, and he'll never get you anywhere." The boy straightened up and rolled his shoulder. "But then again, what can you expect from someone who carries around a stupid toy everywhere he goes--?"

"KIMURA!" came an angry shout from around the corner. Keiji jumped and backed away, turning to see a band of second years storming down the hall, led by an exceptionally short boy with a messy undercut who looked ready to kill. The tall, brown haired boy behind him caught sight of Akaashi, and began trying to catch the attention of the shorter blond beside him by elbow. Unfortunately, the blond was far more preoccupied with holding back the short one from rolling up his sleeves.

"You've really done it this time, you prick," the short one was spouting. "I'm gonna _end_ you!"  
"I'm shaking, really," Kimura replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The short one growled and lunged forward, held back by his blond friend.  
"Komi, chill!" he ordered.  
"You had no right! _No right!_ Konoha, back off! You know he had no right to say what he said! You fucking asshole!"  
"I know, but we can't go losing our libero too!" the blond answered him sternly. Kimura smirked.

"It's kind of sad," he sighed. "How much you care. I sure don't. Not anymore. Go ahead and hate me, if you want, it doesn't matter to me."  
"DON'T PRETEND LIKE YOU'RE BETTER THAN US!" Komi roared. "If it wasn't for you we would have all been _fine!"_  
"You're lucky Bokuto was holding Kuroo back, because I sure wouldn't have," Konoha agreed, holding onto Komi's blazer. "And don't think that because I'm holding onto him I agree with you."

"Again, shaking," Kimura dismissed. "I said what I said because it's the god damn truth, and you all fucking know it."  
"PIECE OF ASS-!"  
_"KOMI!"_  
"Nobody on the team that I know would agree with you, Kimura," the tallest of the second years growled. "Komi is right, you had no business saying something like that to him."  
"Just because you're still butthurt over Tatsuma leaving-!"  
_"Komi, shut up!!!!"_

"Let him stew, Konoha," Kimura interrupted. "Again, he can say whatever he wants. I don't fucking care anymore."  
"YOU'D BETTER CARE! YOU'D BETTER CARE AFTER WHAT JUST HAPPENED!"  
"I don't know, and I don't want to," Kimura cut him off, turning away from the group of second years, who were barely holding onto the small angry one. Keiji could see tears forming in his eyes. "Have fun at finals without a setter. See ya."

Kimura strolled away, leaving Komi shaking in his teammates' arms. Keiji swore he hear the words 'it's all your fucking fault' tumble from his mouth. It was a full minute before they let him go. And then, the tall one was poking the blond, Konoha, in the back again.

"What, Sarukui?" Konoha huffed. The tall one, Sarukui, gestured at him. Keiji shrunk as his brown eyes flicked over his face, then down to his hands, where he was squeezing Shouri-chan, then back up to his face.

"Holy shit," Konoha wheezed. _"Love Letters."_

This caught Komi's attention, who whirled around and did almost exactly the same thing as his teammates. Keiji gulped and stepped forward.

"E-excuse me," he said, despite having the full attention of all five second years. "What just happened?"

The second years suddenly all looked uncomfortable, and Komi sniffled loudly, wiping the wet out of his eyes. Keiji leaned forward and took a deep breath.  
"I don't know what's going on," he said again, surprised at how assertive he sounded. "But somebody had better start explaining it to me right now. I'm only going to ask one more time. What happened to Bokuto?"

There was a sound of puffing air, sucking teeth. And Komi stepped forward.  
"He tried to confront Kimura about what an asshole he's been all semester and it backfired," he explained. "Kimura basically told him that he wasn't worth anything, and that nobody cared about him or respected him. He even dragged your name into it. His Nekoma friend? Kuroo? Almost jumped the net and tried to kill him. Nearly got himself thrown off the court. He probably would have, too, if Bokuto hadn't held him back."

Keiji gasped, his hands and Shouri-chan flying to his mouth.  
"The captain tried to reconcile it, but it was too late. Bokuto was barely there the whole match. I mean, you could tell he was trying, and he did really well, but... it was like watching a ghost. And then... yesterday...."

Komi started to shake, and the rest of his words came out in a jumble. Keiji looked to the others, hoping one of them would repeat it. None of them looked like the wanted to, but Komi had started to cry again.

"What happened?" Keiji breathed, despite the fact that he didn't want to know.  
"How much did Bokuto tell you about junior high?" Konoha asked. Keiji shook his head.  
"Komi and Bokuto went to junior high together. And Bokuto was a mess," Sarukui explained. "Like ten times the mess he is now."  
"And before he got help, and he got into his moods... you know what I'm talking about. When he got all emo, he'd start to cut."  
"He relapsed yesterday. His mom found him and freaked out," Konoha said, his voice strangling on the words. "He's in the hospital."

Keiji swore his heart stopped beating and the lights all dimmed. The hallway felt quieter than death. Keiji took a step back from the second years, looking them over at their gaunt, tired faces.

"Please excuse me," he rasped, before turning tail and running back down the hall.

\-----------------------------

For seeing a high school student by himself in the middle of the day, the hospital receptionist was exceptionally kind. She directed him to the appropriate floor, and told him to ask for the doctor for permission to visit. Keiji did exactly that, hoping that the doctor wouldn't scold him for skipping his afternoon classes to catch the train. 

He didn't, of course.

"Well, he's asleep right now," the doctor said. "The sedative we gave him knocked him out pretty hard. Even if he were awake he wouldn't be very coherent."  
"Please, I just need to see him," Keiji begged, bowing deeply.  
"... Here, he's in room 401."

The room was sunny and warm from the afternoon exposure. The window was open, and a light breeze wafted through through the filmy curtains, tossing Keiji's bangs. Keiji turned and shut the door behind him, pressing his forehead against it, and inhaling deeply. He brought Shouri-chan to his face and pressed his nose into the fabric. He could hear the monitors beeping steadily behind him. Keiji gripped Shouri-chan tighter for support. He's right there, behind me, Keiji thought, feeling his heartbeat thumping against the doorframe and his breath hitching in his throat. Had this been any other way, Keiji wasn't so sure he'd be able to handle this. Steeling himself, Keiji inhaled deeply and turned around.

He was asleep, of course. He had a square face, with a strong chin, sharp eyebrows that Keiji could imagine animating his face, and thin lips that didn't look quite right placid. His black and white hair looked soft, flopped over his forehead and tousled as it was. Keiji's breathing quieted to match Bokuto's labored rhythm as he approached the bedside, unsure if the lightheaded feeling coming over him was from the rapid change in oxygen intake, or the sight before him. He leaned forward, his fingers ghosting over Bokuto's cheek before drawing back. A shudder coursed through him, accompanied by silent criticisms: "not yet," "too soon," "don't be rude." Keiji sighed, and straightened up, resting his wavering hand on the mattress by Bokuto's shoulder. His eyes trailed downwards, to the edge of his sleeves and the faint red scars marring his biceps, the white gauze over his wrists. His cheeks grew warm, and the corners of his eyes stung with wet.

Keiji glanced down at Shouri-chan, and held him up to examine him. Bokuto's good luck charm, given to him by a friend. Gifted to Keiji to help him feel less lonely. How could he have been so selfish, when it was obvious who needed him more? Keiji gave a short laugh, and hugged the owl close before wiping his eyes clear and tucking the owl under Bokuto's arm. Shouri-chan would be there when he woke up, and everything would be back to normal. The stuffed bird tilted awkwardly to the left as the stuffing sagged, making it seem like it was tilting its head, asking Keiji what he was doing. Hopefully, making things right, Keiji silently answered, failing to hear the door opening behind him.

"Heh, I was wondering where Shouri-chan had flown off to."

Akaashi gasped and turned to see a taller boy leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and smirking. He had messy, dark hair that fell over half of his face, blocking one of his flashing yellow eyes. He was also wearing a school uniform that Keiji didn't recognize: a black sweater-vest with a red tie over a short-sleeved, collared white shirt. Keiji narrowed his eyes, trying to take a step back, but finding himself trapped against the metal guard of the hospital bed. The boy immediately put his hands up in conciliation.

"Calm down, dude, I'm not gonna eat you or anything. Akaashi, right?" he asked, stepping into the room and putting his bag on the chair beside the door. Keiji blinked.  
"Who are you?" he asked.  
"Kuroo Tetsurou," the stranger introduced, pulling his sweater-vest off and laying it on top of his bag before extending a hand forward with a bright grin. "Bokuto's told me a lot about you."

Keiji let his shoulders relax hearing the familiar name, and shook Kuroo's hand.  
"Nice to meet you, Kuroo-san," he replied. "Bokuto told me about you, as well."  
"Not too much, I hope," Kuroo laughed. "Just 'Kuroo' is fine."

Kuroo glanced at Bokuto laying there silently, and sighed.  
"You too, huh?"  
"Yeah. I just found out from the rest of the team an hour ago."  
_"Fuck._ I knew ten minutes after it happened and couldn't make it out here before then," Kuroo griped, making himself comfortable on the corner of the bed and kicking his shoes off. He pulled out a black sharpie from his pocket and began doodling hearts on Bokuto's covered wrist, along with a tiny cartoon cat. Keiji leaned against the bed rail, watching and smiling contentedly at the gesture.

"I should have hit him," Kuroo murmured. "Getting benched would've been worth it. Not this."  
"It was my idea for Bokuto to talk to Kimura," Keiji admitted, averting his eyes. "If I hadn't convinced him to try it, they probably wouldn't have fought."  
"Nah, that thing was a long time coming," Kuroo told him. "Kimura's been a dick to him since their old ace left. Literally the most petty asshole I've ever met in my life."  
"The others seemed to think so as well," Keiji agreed. "They looked like they were going to jump him in the hallway during break."  
"Why didn't they?"  
"Mostly because Konoha-san was holding Komi-san back."

Kuroo snorted, and started writing on the other side of Bokuto's wrist. Things like 'love you bro,' and 'Kuroo was here.'  
"So real question," Kuroo asked, not looking up from his artwork. "Is this the first time you're seeing Bokuto in person?"  
"Yes," Keiji admitted, feeling the heat in his cheeks rising. Kuroo looked up and grinned.  
"Don't get used to this, then," he said, reaching into his back pocket and producing his cell phone. "This is what you should probably expect when he's awake."

The picture Kuroo showed him was of himself and Bokuto. The pair appeared to be riding a bicycle down a monstrous hill, with Bokuto sitting on the handlebars with a smile a meter wide. His hair was parted down the middle and spiked to both sides, with his bangs gelled back, the style very closely resembling Shouri-chan's horns. Keiji leaned in and cupped the picture with both hands, scooping it out of Kuroo's grip and ignoring his snort of laughter as he stared. He had to glance behind him and look over the person laying there in the bed, trying to imagine them being the same. His eyes were so round and looked like liquid gold, glittering in the sunlight and full of life. Keiji felt his chest lurch watching him so still behind him. He could only imagine how it must seem for Kuroo.

Kuroo reached over and swiped to the next image, which was of Kuroo and Bokuto again. This time, Bokuto's eyes were shut, but his smile remained as he appeared to be crushing Kuroo in a hug while Kuroo flashed a peace sign at the camera. Another swipe, showing a picture of Bokuto and Kuroo and several others Keiji didn't recognize playing in a practice match. Bokuto's back was to the camera, but from the part of his face that was visible, Bokuto looked very focused and determined, his eyes likely trained on the ball off-screen. His eyes trailed down the arch of Bokuto's back, not noticing how heavy his breathing had become until Kuroo laughed again. Keiji glanced up at him, meeting his leer with wide, unguarded eyes.

"What?" Kuroo asked. "Not what you were expecting?"  
"No," Keiji replied, glancing back down at the picture. "This is much better."  
Kuroo grinned. "I think he'd say the same thing about you."

Kuroo capped the marker, offering it to him and taking back his phone. "Here, you're the one with the note-passing deal. Go nuts. Bokuto will love it when he wakes up."

Keiji smiled, and walked himself around to the other side. He gingerly picked up Bokuto's other wrist, a tingling sensation coursing through him with the realization that his skin was soft, save for the palms of his hands, which were rough from sport. He took a moment to draw an owl there, along with several hearts and stars.

"What are you going to do after this?" Kuroo asked, watching him draw. Keiji paused, thinking a moment before continuing.  
"I'm probably going to head back to Fukurodani," he said. "I need to apologize to my teachers for leaving, and there's something else that I need to take care of."  
"Oho?" Kuroo asked, quirking a brow. "Something interesting?"  
"I guess," Keiji responded. "I've been considering it for a while now. It was Bokuto's idea actually. I think I'm going to give it a chance." He finished his owl, and wondered if he shouldn't leave one more note, just for good measure. Giving himself a second to think, he began to write, making sure there was a drawn heart next to the spot where he wanted to sign his name.

 _Bokuto-san,_  
_Thank you for lending Shouri-chan to me, but I think he missed being at home._  
_Please take care of yourself. I'll see you when you come back to school._  
_Akaashi Keiji_ ❤︎

\---------------------------------------

When Koutarou walked into school on Monday morning the next week, his usual greeting of "hey, hey, heyy!!" had just a little more oomf to it. His smile was infectious, and all of his classmates greeted him warmly, asking if he was alright. "I've never been better!" was his response, despite the fact that he still had gauze wraps on his wrists. The wraps were fresh, much to his dismay -- He'd begged the nurse to keep the ones that were drawn on, especially Akaashi's note that had left him a blushing mess, but was told that was 'unsanitary.' He had also yelled at Kuroo for not trying to wake him up while Akaashi had been there, and he'd been asleep ("Bro, I can't _believe_ you met Akaashi before me!!!" "Do you really think I would have been able to wake you up while you were drugged to high hell?") -- and the doctor had told him to keep them on for at least another week, which Koutarou was a little disheartened by. Despite this, he still wore his summer uniform, because it was May and way too hot to be wearing long sleeves.

He didn't go to morning practice, his mother insisting that he get the few extra hours of sleep before going to school as a last-minute bit of self care before he undoubtedly went right back to staying out late and getting up early, so he wasn't able to see his teammates before lunch. Komi ran to him and leaped into his waiting arms, wailing at the top of his lungs. Koutarou lifted him off his feet and spun him around once before the six of them headed out to their usual spot in the yard.

"Man, I can't believe I missed the finals," Koutarou whined. "I feel so bad..."  
"Don't worry about that," Konoha assured. "You didn't miss much."  
"Yeah, but still, you guys lost because you were down two players..." he mused. "I still can't believe Kimura quit."  
"Eh, Kimura can go suck a dick, for all I care," Komi stated. "We're better off without him."

The others nodded in agreement, leaving Koutarou glancing between them confusedly.  
"Well, don't we need a setter though?" he asked, pressing his fingers together and letting his mind wander back to Akaashi. His teammates grinned.  
"Oh, don't worry. We've already taken care of that."

Koutarou tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, causing Komi and Sarukui to snicker under their breath. Nobody would explain to him what that meant, no matter how many times he asked. The bell rang, snapping Koutarou out of his thoughts, and he realized too late that he hadn't given himself time to send Akaashi a note saying he'd returned. Koutarou begged Komi to cover for him while he ran down the first year hallway, but was caught by Washio.

"Go to class. There'll be time for that later," he said. Koutarou deflated, but obeyed.

Four o' clock couldn't come fast enough. Koutarou spent the entirety of his afternoon classes drumming his fingers impatiently on his bouncing knee under his desk, doodling pairs of owls in the margins of his notebook hooting at each other. One he gave horns like himself, and the other he drew with a round head, like the one Akaashi had left for him on his wrist. When the final bell finally rang, he bolted from the room, leaving Mitsuki to put the brooms away (she'd said she wouldn't mind). He sprinted down the hall, ready to head for Class 1-5, when he was grabbed again, this time by the captain.

"Sorry lover-boy," he stated with a grin. "Practice first."  
"Practice?" Koutarou asked. "Not that I'm opposed to extra practices, but didn't we just finish the Inter-High? Aren't we on break until training camp?"  
"Nope! Not this time!" the captain stated. "We have to keep working on our new setup if we want to be in shape for training camp, even."

Koutarou had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but allowed the captain to drag him to the clubroom to get changed. Komi and Sarukui were chatting in there as they got changed over. They both greeted him brightly. Koutarou pulled out his practice T-shirt and shorts, asking Komi if he was missing something while he slid his kneepads up over his thighs and getting nothing but snickers and a 'you'll see,' in response. Growing suspicious, he followed behind them into the gym.

Just as he stepped in, he saw Konoha take a running start, and watched as a lanky, curly haired _somebody_ sent a toss his way. Konoha's palm met the ball square, and he let out a whoop as it landed on the other side of the net. The somebody turned and complimented Konoha, offering a high-five. _A new setter!_ he realized. The setter had a slender build, and a long, angular face that was framed neatly by his dark curls. Koutarou felt his heart racing. He was _beautiful,_ and Koutarou had only seen half of him.

"Saru," Koutarou said, elbowing his teammate in the side. "Who's that?"  
"Huh?  
"Who is that? Tossing to Konoha?"  
Sarukui grinned, sending a knowing look to Komi before clapping one hand on Koutarou's shoulder.  
"That," he answered, "is Akaashi Keiji."

Koutarou froze, and Sarukui had to physically turn him back to face the pair on the court. Konoha had noticed him, and was grinning, taking the ball from the setter and tucking it under his arm against his hip.  
"Yeah, he joined the team last Monday, right after the finals," Komi explained. "Said you'd talked him into it. Lucky he's a setter, huh?"

Koutarou didn't really care if it was lucky or not, because Konoha had pointed in his direction, and Akaashi Keiji turned around. Koutarou felt his heart stop completely, and forgot how to breathe. Akaashi's narrow, deep green eyes widened in surprise, and then softened. And Koutarou watched as his thin mouth curved ever so slightly into a smile. Koutarou barely heard Komi and Sarukui burst out laughing and walking away as his face seemed to catch fire.

And then Akaashi Keiji started walking over to him, and Koutarou couldn't figure out how to make his anything move. He simply stared in shock as the first year he'd been passing notes with for the entire last semester stood in front of him, smiling, and fidgeting with his fingers in front of him. Koutarou gaped. He wasn't ready. He wasn't prepared. Akaashi was _breathtaking,_ and he _wasn't ready for this, please don't let him fuck up._

Akaashi, thankfully, opened his mouth before Koutarou had the chance, and greeted him for the first time.

"Hello, Bokuto-san."

**Author's Note:**

> The riveting story of how these two lovebirds met. I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!!


End file.
